


Monaco

by ravenslight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, I literally wrote this last night, Idk bad at tags, Massage, Mild Smut, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sorry if it's garbage, follow up fic, snarky Theo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 00:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/pseuds/ravenslight
Summary: What happened in Monaco would… likely be something Draco never lived down and a unexpected reunion he’d never forget. Alternatively, the one where Draco learns he likes to give up control, but not the last time it happens.





	Monaco

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! I’m back with the follow-up to Beg Me. I know, that was quick, right? Unfortunately, today’s original claimer had technical difficulties, so I banged this out for you all last night. Please be kind; this has not been alpha read or beta read, and I quite literally wrote this all in about three hours lol. If you have constructive, _**kind**_ criticism or comments, you’re welcome to leave them in the comments below. As always, thanks for reading. Until next time. Now let’s find out what happened in Monaco!

**Monaco**

It was supposed to be a relaxing week. Blaise had planned Theo’s stag party to celebrate his upcoming nuptials with Lovegood, but when they landed with a crash in a rundown cottage about two kilometres from the main beach, Draco’s good mood evaporated.

Draco had anticipated a week in the wizarding underground of Nice, maybe a few drunken nights up and down the promenade, then perhaps a day to explore the ley lines while Theo recovered, but he couldn’t do that if he had no idea where in Merlin’s name he was.

“What in the bloody  _ fuck _ is this, Blaise?” Disdain dripped from every word as Draco rightened himself, the remnants of Portkey travel leaving him dizzy. 

“But this one is a  _ topless _ beach, Draco. Not just any old beach.” Blaise threw open the shutters, his triumphant grin that fading when one of them sagged sideways with a pathetic squeak. “Well, that’s disappointing. But look at that view!”

Despite the irritation threatening to pull a sarcastic quip from his well-behaved—really, he ought to have been awarded an Order of Merlin for how uncharacteristically civilised he was in the face of this utterly unimpressive home—he ambled to the window. Theo clambered behind him, his low whistle adequately expressing Draco’s impressions of the beach as well as he propped his elbows on Draco’s shoulder. 

A large swath of sparkling sand extended from the rear patio of the cottage, and the cool blue expanse of the Meditteranean lapped the shore lazily. He had to admit it was quite the site, but he turned away from the window with an unimpressed huff, unceremoniously dumping Theo to the floor. “S’alright.”

“ _ It’s alright _ ? Mate, you’ve got to get that stick out of your arse.” Theo shook himself on the ground, springing to his feet with exaggerated fanfare. “Sure, Blaise could have been a little more…  _ discerning  _ with our lodging, but sometimes convenience outweighs glamour.” Besides, it’s my stag party! Luna’s off at the Neville’s Snake Charmer show, so this weekend is ours.”

Blaise shook his head, a choked laugh escaping him. “Of all the people I thought would become a male entertainer, Longbottom was the last.”

Humming his agreement, Theo said, “But puberty  _ was _ quite kind to him; bloke didn’t turn out too bad looking, if I say so myself. And he’s quite randy in bed, so…”

A shudder wracked Draco’s shoulders as less than pleasant images of them in bed together flashed across his mind; Theo was not adept at locking charms. “Theo, I’m begging you,  _ please  _ don’t tell us what you and Lovegood get up to with Longbottom. Open marriage be damned; there are some things I don’t need to know about my best mate.” Draco dropped onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Your loss.” With one last look toward the window and the beachgoers that were beginning to flock to the sand, Theo settled next to Draco on the bed. 

Blaise leaned against the other side, poking Draco’s ribs. When Draco finally moved his arm and cracked an eye at their friend, Blaise frowned at him, his finger landing inches before Draco’s nose, and he froze. “Get your arse up, put on your swim costume and a happy smile, and cheer the fuck up.” His severe glare had Draco moving, sitting upright with mumbled protests. 

There were few people in this world he was truly frightened of, but his mother and Blaise Zabini were two of them. His mother because she’d kick his arse to kingdom come, and Blaise because he was a ruthless sneak who didn’t mind playing dirty. “Alright, alright. I’m up.”

Theo clapped his hands together, a gleeful shout too loud in the tiny cottage. “Alright, let’s do this!” He ducked out of the room, the loud bangs of his suitcase slamming into the walls echoing before he came careening back into the room. “Dibs on the bed!”

Draco glared at him as dread settled in his stomach. “ _ The  _ bed? As in  _ singular _ ?” 

Theo’s grin fell short of chagrined as he propped himself on the end, kicking up his legs. “Let loose, Draco. Go with the flow, find that inner chi that helps you loosten the fuck up.” He waggled his brows at Draco. “Who knows? You might find that you’ll have some fun.”

Draco loathed the sun.

It had nothing to do with the fact that it burned his pasty skin or that it turned his already dreadfully pale hair a sickening shade of white that clashed horrifically with his aforementioned skin and  _ everything  _ to do with the fact that it was far too bloody cheerful for its own good.

Sure, he was happy for Theo, and yes, he wanted to be there for his friend to celebrate the next step in his life and relationship with Lovegood, no matter how unconventional it was. But four pints in, and he was flopped sullenly on the beach towel while Blaise flirted with the very pretty, very  _ topless _ blondes under the umbrella adjacent to theirs while Theo frolicked drunkenly in the waves. 

If nothing else, it was entertaining watching his friend lose his balance in the tiny waves that toppled him over time and again.

Maybe they should have stopped him before that last pint. 

With a shrug, he stretched out on the towel, summoning his book from the small pack he’d dragged along with him. Thank Merlin for small miracles.

Two days. They’d been there for all of two days, and he was already burnt to a crisp, angry mottled skin refusing to cool long enough for him to slip a shirt on over the top of it and thus only serving to burn his skin further. And no amount of magical sun block concoctions the booths around the beach boasted proved helpful.

Draco  _ hated  _ the bloody sun.

When the book landed before him, he paged through it, searching for his place amongst the notes he’d jotted in the margins. But between the sound of the waves, the painful itching of his miserable skin, and the idle chatter of the girls next to them, Draco stared at the pages, wishing he’d just stayed home. 

And then a shadow loomed over him, casting a welcome cool breeze over him. Squinting upward, he realised with a disappointed jolt that it was Blaise, two of blondes from the other beach towel clinging to either side of him, their hands propped flirtatiously on his chest. 

“You’ve got Theo, right?” Though he was a silhouette in the bright sunlight, Draco could see enough of the other man to watch his eyebrows shoot high on his forehead in a silent plea. 

_ Bugger. _

Draco nodded, returning his stare to his book before answering. “I’ve got him.” Blaise was gone before he fell silent. 

And he was alone with his thoughts again.

This time, though, he was able to fall into his book, the history of ley lines in and around the French Riviera a topic he’d long been interested in, and he wasn’t distracted again until he felt the sand shift beside him and the towel wrinkled. When warm hands settled on his back, he started, rolling to his side to stare up at the intruder.

She was pretty in a soft, understated kind of way, her bikini modest compared to the suits—or lack thereof—in her counterparts on the beach. She had kind blue eyes and long blonde tresses, but when she blinked down at him, a mischievous smile lilted her lips. 

After a moment of stunned silence, he spat, “What in the name Merlin do you think you’re doing?”

She lifted a bottle of Muggle sunblock with a slight shrug. “You’ll burn.” Her accent was strong, but it had a lilting, musical quality that was instantly familiar.

“Fleur?” Draco sat up on the towel, eyeing her with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

A quiet laugh. “A holiday, though I’m afraid my friends have left me behind.” She smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid your Italian friend is to blame for that.”

Despite the blush that rose to his cheeks, Draco grinned, his spirits lifting incrementally. “Well, you know how Blaise is.”

The unspoken words settled between them, the  _ history _ . They’d both been lonely after the war, before Stori and he had reconnected and fell apart again. Before Fleur had fallen in love with and subsequently had her heart broken by the eldest Weasley. The arrangement had been devoid of emotion and mutually beneficial. 

Draco remembered one fumbling kiss in a broom closet shortly after he started his internship at Gringotts and tore his gaze from hers and back to the ground quickly. Fleur had no such issue, though, and her hand closed on his shoulder, forcing him to lie down on his stomach.

“Fleur, what are you—”

And then she was straddling his bum, her long, lean legs settling on either side of him, and he tried very,  _ very _ hard not to focus on the things her slight weight was doing to him. She leaned over his shoulder, her voice whispy in his ear. “Draco, be quiet.” 

The first caress of her hands was soft, tentative, relearning skin she’d been intimately familiar with once upon a time, but when he relaxed under them, she grew surer of herself, pressing just the right spot, kneading out knots while she lathered him with sun cream. 

He lost himself in the fluid movements, the back and forth rolling of her hands. The way they seemed to play over his ribs delicately, stalling on the corded muscles lining his back. But when she tapped him on the shoulder, indicating that she was ready for him to turn over, he froze.

Suddenly, he was quite aware of his raging hard on, and the relaxation that had rendered him boneless drained away, leaving him rigid with anxiety.

_ This was not happening _ .

Maybe if he just laid really,  _ really  _ still, she’d forget about it and go away, leaving him alone with his shame.

But her grip on his shoulder was persistent, rolling him over with a sly grin, her hands trailing over his peck. 

Panic seized him, and his hands shot up, clenching her waist as he stopped her decent. “Fleur, I can’t—”

Laughter again, and then, “Draco,  _ let go _ .” Her voice held authority it hadn’t before, the musical lilt now deeper, a command in it he hadn’t expected, and his hands fell dumbly to his side. When she seated herself on his lap and rocked infinitesimally on him, he was done for. “We’ve got some time to make up for, yes?”

Gods help him. 

Her hands resumed their attention to his body, his eyes fluttering shut, and a breathy moan escaped him. Bugger all the people on the damned beach. If they wanted a show, they could bloody well have one.

“Draco?” 

Her voice pulled his attention back to her, and he cracked an eyelid open, his lip clenched painfully between his teeth. “Hmm?” It was a cross between a whimper and a groan, but the look in her eyes belied any embarrassment he might have felt at the sound.

Her pale eyes were a riot of blues, the shadows and light playing across her irises in a dazzling show of desire. When she leaned forward and braced her hands on his chest, his breath escaped him in one huff. “It’s been a while…” The cock of her head was a subtle acknowledgement of their past. “I need you to tell me right now if you don’t want this. Tell me to stop.” 

Didn’t want this? Merlin, he’d have to be dense not to want this, and he frantically shook his head back and forth. 

Her brows arched on her forehead, but the musical lilt was back in her voice, teasing him. “Use your words, Draco.” One hand snaked slowly down his body, tracing the peaks and valleys of his muscles until it slipped beneath his swim shorts. When it brushed over his swollen head, he dropped his head back on the towel with a harsh sigh.

“I want this. Please, I want this.”

He could feel the satisfaction in her smile as her lips crashed against his in a heated kiss that made his head spin.

Distantly, the rational part of him was screaming at him that he was supposed to be keeping track of Theo, that he was there for the stag party, but he pushed it away in favour of Theo’s comments the first day they’d arrived.  _ You might have some fun. _

Who knew how right he’d be? 

Frantically, he tore away, wordlessly summoning his wand and casting a  _ Disillusionment  _ spell on them, thanking his lucky stars that Theo had chosen a spot a short distance away from the more crowded beach and then Fleur was shoving him backward.

“Stay.” The demand was back in her tone, and he found he couldn’t disobey her even if he tried. It felt good to be led, to give in to the temptation and just allow it to happen for once. “May I?” She smoothed her hand over the length of him again for emphasis.

“I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t stop that.” But she was moving even as he spoke.

Watching her take control was intoxicating, turning him on in a way he’d never been so before. Fleur kissed her way down his chest, pausing to nip at his nipples and lave them with her tongue, he tilted his head back, staring up at the umbrella with muttered praises. And then she was diving beneath his swim shorts again, sliding them down his legs, and dropping them beside his hips.

He nearly shot up off the towel when her mouth descended over him. 

She took him inch by inch, swallowing around his length as she went, and Merlin if she didn’t look perfect doing it. He leveraged himself up on one elbow, reaching a tentative hand down to thread it in her hair, but she pulled off him, leveling a stern glare at him. Slowly, she kneeled, crawling upward until her centre hovered just over him.

Not breaking eye contact, she reached down, slowly sliding her bikini bottoms to the side and lowering herself to slot his head within her folds. It was deliberate, the slow teasing, and he found he couldn’t help the pleas that fell from his lips. “Fleur, please.” He swallowed harshly. “I need this.”

He didn’t know how true the words were until spoken, but he lost the ability to think when she lowered herself onto him inch by inch, her back bowed and mouth open in a slight oh. 

Gods, her self assurance one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen, and he swallowed his praises roughly lest he say something he didn’t mean. Thank fuck she’d finally gotten over the Weasley prat.

Finally, she seated herself on him fully. Face radiant with her triumph, she settled her hands on his chest, rocking against him in a languid rhythm. 

Draco struggled to breath through his arousal, focusing on not coming on the spot as his hands settled on her hips and gave himself over to her motions. Each rock against him drove him higher; he didn’t know what he’d done to land himself in this moment with an old flame, but he thanked Salazar for his good fortune.

Above him, Fleur’s motion stuttered, a low gasp escaping her parted lips. On instinct, his hand slipped loose of her hips, sliding toward her centre, but she stopped him short with a firm shake of her head. Instead, her own fingers trailed to her clit, rubbing in slow, even circles as she watched him, drawing her lip between her teeth with a breathy moan. 

Her other hand spasmed on her chest, the blunt nails of her fingertips scratching at the surface, and her name slipped out of him on a hiss.

“Merlin, I’m so close, Draco.” It took everything in him not to come on the spot, her walls fluttering around him; when her eyes flashed to his, he swallowed. “With me?”

And then she moved, really began to move, bracing herself on his chest as his hips rose to meet hers in little thrusts, his name a prayer on her lips. Finally, her walls clenched around his, and they both came together with guttural groans. 

He wasn’t sure how long they lay there slumped together, but when he finally came back down from the high of his orgasm, he laughed quietly. “Well, that was one hell of a way to say hello.”

Her shoulders shook with her own laughter, but she smiled up at him, placing a playful kiss on the underside of his chin. “Are you complaining?”

“Gods no.” And he captured her lips again, rolling over to pin her to the towel. 

Hours later, he strolled back to the cabin through the dark of the evening, plans to meet Fleur the next night already set.

Nothing romantic, they’d agreed. Just a way to work out the burns from their respective ex-spouses.

He could deal with that.

Whistling to himself, he slipped in the door, allowing it to fall shut behind him and locking it with a snap. 

As he was turning to creep toward the sofa he’d claimed, though, the light snapped on, and he was greeted by both Theo and Blaise, sitting in armchairs they’d transfigured from other furniture in the room.

_ Bugger _ .

“Just where have you been, young man?” Theo’s voice was pitched in a high falsetto, his frown poorly concealing the mirth in his eyes.

Blaise cleared his throat, following Theo’s lead. “We were worried  _ sick _ about you. The least you could have done was owled.  _ And  _ you were supposed to keep an eye on Theo.”

Heat crawled up his cheeks as he rolled his eyes, crossing the room to his sofa. “Seeing as Theo made it home okay, and the fact that we’re both adults, I think all is well that ends well.” Muted chuckles followed him across the room, and he reached for his pack, summoning sleep shorts from the depths of the bag. “Shouldn’t we get to bed? Long day tomorrow?”

His attempt to change the subject didn’t go unnoticed, but Theo and Blaise filed toward the doorway, mischievous grins lighting up their face. “Duly noted,” Theo mused, though he paused on his way past Draco. “You ought to brush up on your silencing charms, though. We couldn’t see you, but the whole beach could hear you, dear.” 

Heat lanced up Draco’s cheeks, and he turned wide, horrified eyes on his friends.

Blaise could barely contain his laughter as he mimicked, “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t stop  _ that. _ ”

Both men fell into each other in a fit of laughter, and Draco flopped onto his couch, shame burning his cheeks.

He’d never live down Monaco. 


End file.
